


Breaking and Entering and Homemade Chicken Soup

by HowToKillAVampire



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Breaking and Entering, Chicken Soup, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Human Disaster Matt Murdock, Hurt Matt, M/M, Matt Murdock Needs a Hug, Mattimir, Mentioned Foggy Nelson and Karen Page, Vladimir Ranskahov Lives, sick matt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:41:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26252812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HowToKillAVampire/pseuds/HowToKillAVampire
Summary: It's a sickfic!Matt is feeling a little under the weather, but the friendly burglar seems to be taking good care of him.
Relationships: Matt Murdock/Vladimir Ranskahov
Comments: 7
Kudos: 65





	Breaking and Entering and Homemade Chicken Soup

The humming was what woke Matt up. The slow sweet rhythm of the song.

Not the groaning of his door on its old hinges.

Not the padding of feet across his floorboards.

Not the rustling of grocery bags.

Not the hollow thump of vegetables being arranged on his counter.

Not the gentle movement of the quilt being tucked around him.

Not the clanging of his biggest pot being pulled out of the back of the cupboard.

Not the sound of broth filling the pot.

Not the steady bubbling of the broth on the stove.

Not the splash of the ingredients sliding into the pot.

Not even the opening and closing of every creaky cabinet in his kitchen in search of the salt.

No, it was the soft sound of someone humming an almost familiar tune that stirred Matt from his uncomfortable slumber on his sorry excuse for a sofa.

He didn’t even register the warm quilt that was tucked around him, because all his mind could focus on was the heavenly scent filling his nose.

Chicken soup.

The smell was so clear and warming, and Matt’s lips twitched into a small smile. The last time he had eaten chicken soup was… well, too long ago to remember.

Maybe before his dad had left. Maybe longer.

But someone was in his kitchen right this very moment, stirring a massive pot of home cooked chicken soup, and swaying along to the tune they were humming. It would have been endearing, really, if Matt had any fucking idea who was in his apartment.

The odds of it being Foggy or Karen were pretty fucking slim, considering neither of them had a key to his apartment, nor the ability to pick a lock. There was the possibility of Foggy breaking in through the door on the rough, but he didn’t seem the type. Since they were the only two people that even knew where Matt lived besides his neighbors,

Matt concluded that a complete stranger was cooking for him at 11am on a Saturday morning.

Although Matt knew he should be alarmed, or somewhat worried at the very least, something about the sheer absurdity of the situation made it nearly impossible for Matt not to laugh.

“Дрисня!” the person, a man by the sounds of it, swore as he dropped the knife he had been cutting vegetables with. The metal blade clattered on the counter, causing Matt to jump.

“Wh-” Matt started, but a fit of coughing overtook him before he could finish the first word. After a moment, a glass cup was gently pushed into Matt’s hands.

“Do not talk, you are sick,” the man chided. His voice was deep, and quite rough, with a thick Russian accent hanging onto each word. Matt gulped down the water in one go, too parched to care if it had been laced with poison or not.

“Hey, притормози, easy there! You will choke!” the man snapped as he snatched the cup away from Matt and set it on the coffee table. He turned to leave, but Matt caught him by the arm before he could get away.

“You’re bleeding.”

It wasn’t a question. Matt could smell the blood the second the man had sliced his finger. Matt could also feel the scarred skin of the man’s forearm underneath his fingers, and decidedly ignored the urge to run his fingers along the scars of the strange man in front of him.

“Just a cut,” the man laughed lightly. He relaxed just a fraction and turned his hand over to show Matt his finger. Matt didn’t even pretend to glance down at his hand, and the man didn’t seem bothered by the fact that Matt’s eyes were still trained on his face.

Assuming his answer was satisfactory, the man tried to step away, but Matt tightened his grip.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, voice too scratchy and raw. The question surprised the both of them.

“Making soup.”

The man slipped out of his grasp and made his way back over to the stove. Matt opened his mouth to respond, but a sneeze came out instead.

“будь здоров,” the man mumbled. “Here.” A box of tissues was set gently in Matt’s lap, and before he could protest he sneezed twice more.

“I know that,” he paused to wipe his nose, “I mean why are you making soup?”

“You have fever,” he mumbled as he walked back to the kitchen. He turned his back on Matt as he wrapped a paper towel around his finger and continued talking under his breath. “Я хочу помочь тебе, хорошо?”  
Matt let out a long sigh, more disappointed in himself for asking the wrong question than frustrated with the subpar answer. Despite the odd situation, Matt felt oddly calm. He allowed himself a few moments before trying again.

“How did you get in?”

“Through door.”

“It was locked.”

“Not after I pick lock,” he said cheerfully, glancing up at Matt, who just raised an eyebrow. Technically, he wasn’t wrong. Matt resigned himself to only getting half answers, and grabbed the cup of water from the table to take a small sip.

For a few minutes, the two of them settled into an oddly comfortable silence, with the man resuming his humming as he stirred the pot of soup. Matt set the cup back on the table and settled back into the sofa. Or at least, he tried to settle back into the sofa. He found it was nearly impossible to make himself comfortable as the stiff cushions continuously jabbed him in various places as he twisted and turned.

How the fuck did I fall asleep here? He wondered offhandedly. And whose quilt is this? I don’t own any quilts.

After turning over a few more times, he finally flopped onto his back and let out a frustrated sigh.

“Need help?” the man asked, barely concealing his smile.

“No.” Matt grumbled, pulling the quilt up around his shoulders.

“You sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure!”

He put up his hands and let out a small laugh. Matt refused to turn towards him.

"Как скажешь,” he relented. Matt felt the heat rising in his cheeks and turned on his side away from the man in his kitchen. He felt his nose running again but was too stubborn to reach out and grab another tissue. He sniffled loudly, and the man chuckled, which only made Matt blush more.

He had only been laying on his side for about two minutes when the man spoke again.

“Soup is done.”

The man carried two bowls over and sat them down on the table in front of Matt. He hovered for a minute, hesitant.

“What?” Matt croaked, not fully looking the man in the face.

“Sit up.”

Matt rolled his eyes and struggled to pull himself into a sitting position. The man leaned down to help him, and Matt flinched away.

“I can do it myself!”

“Let me help-” the man gingerly placed his hand on Matt’s shoulder and Matt reached up to swat it away instinctively.

“I don’t want your help!”

“Пожалуйста, just-”

“You could be a murderer for all I know.”

“I won’t hurt you.”

“I don’t even know your name!”

“Vladimir.”

“What?”

“Vladimir. My name is Vladimir.” the man answered. The honest response took Matt by surprise. “May I help you now?”

“Yes, fine!” Matt threw his hands up in defeat, sniffling once more. Vladimir gently leaned Matt into a sitting position and seated himself on the coffee table. Matt relaxed a little.

“Sitting on my table? Have you no manners?”

“None at all,” Vladimir joked lightly. He handed Matt his bowl of soup. “Is very hot. Be careful.”

“Says the man who cut his finger chopping carrots,” Matt countered.“How is your finger?”  
Vladimir grabbed his own bowl of soup and chuckled.

“В порядке.”

“Has it stopped bleeding?”

“I’ll live.”

Matt nodded and traced the rim of his bowl feeling for his spoon. Vladimir furrowed his eyebrows.

“What are you- Oh, ложки .” He hopped up and walked back to the kitchen, grabbing two spoons out of the silverware drawer. “Here.” He held one of them out to Matt.

Matt held out his hand and waited. After a moment, Vladimir placed the spoon in his hand but didn’t sit down yet.

“Thank you, Vladimir.”

“...Не стоит благодарности,” he said dismissively, watching Matt for a moment before sitting back down on the table.

“I’m Matt, by the way.”

“Oh,” was all Vladimir could think to say. The corner of Matt’s mouth tilted up in a half smile. He watched Matt as they ate in silence, and took the bowl from him when he finished.

“I’ll be back,” Vladimir said as he pulled on his coat.

“Where are you going?” Matt knew it was a stupid question, yet he asked it anyways.

“You need medicine.”

“I have medicine!”

“Cheap beer and tylenol do not help cough.”

“I’m fine- ” a fit of coughing interrupted Matt mid sentence, and Vladimir was there, offering him a glass of water in mere seconds. He placed the glass in Matt’s hands and watched to make sure Matt actually paced himself this time.

“You were saying?”

“Fuck off,” Matt said weakly. He tried to reach out and place his glass on the coffee table, but it knocked against the side of it and almost slipped from his grasp. Vladimir caught it and put it on the table for Matt, raising an eyebrow but saying nothing more of it.

“Rest while I am gone.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“I- fine. Хорошо, тогда пока,” he scoffed, closing the door gently behind him. Matt waited a few seconds to make sure he was actually gone. Then he sniffled loudly and closed his eyes.

\---

“Matt, Я вернулся.”

“W..what?”

“Matvey, wake up.”

More than a little confused, Matt blinked away the sleep and tried to sit up, subsequently forgetting his own sorry state.

“Ah, here,” Vladimir dropped a small bag on the table and leaned down to help Matt. “I got you.”

“Thanks.”

Vladimir just grinned, and handed the bag to Matt, thankfully ignoring the rising embarrassment Matt was consumed by.

“What’s this?”

“You do not remember?”

“Remember what?”

“Medicine. Your shitty apartment has none.”

“Don’t insult my apartment!”

“Is true! You have no taste in furniture, and nothing of use in cabinets.”

“You’re the one who decided to break in!”

“Was bad decision.”

“Fuck off,” Matt sniffled, pulling the quilt a little tighter around himself. Vladimir smirked triumphantly.

“Now take,” he gestured to the bag. Matt rolled his eyes and grabbed the bag from Vladimir, pulling out two boxes and one bottle of medicine.

“Okay, what now?”  
Vladimir huffed and grabbed one of the boxes, holding it up for Matt to see.

“This, you take two. It says two pills, twice daily,” he set the box down and grabbed the other box, “This, this is for night. Take before sleep.”

As he set the second box down, Matt handed him the bottle.

“And this?”

“What do you mean?”

“What is it for?”

“This is ibuprofen. What you mean ‘What is it for’? You take for fever.” Vladimir raised an eyebrow at him. “You can not read?”

Matt took a deep breath and tried not to laugh, but he couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. Vladimir seemed much less amused.

“What? What is it? Не понимаю, что тут смешного?”

Matt pinched the bridge of his nose and steeled his nerves, willing the laughter that was bubbling up inside of him to go back down.

“Vladimir,” he started, letting the hand drop from his face and rest in his lap.

“Что!”

“Look at me.”

“I am looking at you.”

“No,” Matt reached out his hand, “Look at me.”  
There was a moment where Matt wasn’t sure Vladimir was going to say or do anything, and the tense air hung between them. Vladimir hesitantly reached forward and took Matt’s hand in his own, gently lacing their fingers together. Matt’s heart leapt into his throat and he could feel Vladimir’s eyes trained on his own. It was almost too much.

“Знаешь, у тебя красивые глаза,” he whispered, mostly to himself. Matt felt the skin of Vladimir’s hand grow warmer under his touch and heard his heartbeat quicken ever so slightly.

“What do you see?” Matt asked slowly.

He watched as Matt’s eyes searched the area in front of him, looking at Vladimir but never truly seeing him.

Oh.

“You’re blind.”

It wasn’t a question. Vladimir couldn’t tear his gaze away from the other man as everything fell into place. Matt gave his hand a small squeeze and a smile before pulling away.

“I’ll live.”

Vladimir couldn’t help but mirror Matt’s expression. He reached for the medicine and handed a pill to Matt.

“You are funny, Matvey.”

“And you are a criminal, Vladimir.”

“What!” Vladimir’s voice sounded a little panicked, “Who told you? Who knows I am here?”

“You broke into my apartment! That’s criminal activity,” Matt pointed out. Vladimir let out a relieved sigh. “What did you think I was talking about?”

“Nothing. Is getting late. I should leave.”

“It’s not even dark out!”

“И что? How can you tell, you cannot see it!”

“I can see light, dumbass!”

Vladimir tsked and stood up to leave. Matt reached for him, but a fit of coughing bubbled up in his throat and he went for his water instead. By the time he finished sipping his water, Vladimir was already opening the door.

“Will you be back?” Matt croaked, his voice terribly scratchy.

There was no answer, just the creaking of his door on its hinges.

“How will I know which pills are which?”

The door shut.

“Vladimir! I can’t see them! How will I know?!”

Silence.

Matt huffed and laid back down, mumbling to himself, “He’ll have to come back for this quilt eventually.”

_ _ _

When Matt woke up the next morning, his bones hurt and his back ached from his terrible sofa.

“Fuck, how did I sleep here again?” He asked no one in particular. The events of yesterday slowly registered in his brain, and he had half a mind to accept that he had hallucinated the whole thing.

He reached a hand towards his coffee table and felt a small box and a fresh glass of water. He reached for the box first.

It was a pill organizer, with braille labels printed on it. It had only three compartments. They read: morning, afternoon, evening.

Matt couldn’t help but smile as he popped it open and took the first pill.

“I knew you’d come back.”

From the top of the staircase leading to the rough, he heard a scoff.

**Author's Note:**

> Just some fluff, from a finally finished draft I've had in google docs for literally two fucking years. Enjoy.


End file.
